


The Break of Dawn

by missartful



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Adoption, Child Abandonment, Childhood Sweethearts, F/M, Fire Nation Royal Family, Multi, Oh God This Can't End Well, Parent-Child Relationship, Siege of the North, Water Tribe(s), can it?, water tribe zuko
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-23 08:24:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9647960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missartful/pseuds/missartful
Summary: Zuko is left as an infant to live in the Northern Water Tribe for his own protection, to be raised by a kindly, noble couple. Outed at a young age as a firebender, he fights for a place in the society he loves, for the acceptance of his family, for the love of the princess, and to win the war without knowing his true family is the cause of it. Zue, minor Zutara.





	1. Prologue

The cry of the baby carried down the street, breaking the silence of the dead of night. The tall, white buildings contained the wail softly, gently, the small whimpers spreading in echoes through the thickly housed city. Nothing stirred. The moon shone overhead, light pooling in the icy streets.

Slipping quietly and briskly across the frothy snow, two hooded figures moved in the cast shadows, one smaller and rounder, the other tall, thin, and cradling bundle of blue cloth closely, fur trimmings shivering in a lazy breeze. Ursa peered from beneath her hood, yellow eyes peering through the dark. Her lips were pale and pressed tightly, lines of worry deepening her in her youthful face.

Her baby mewled again, cold and frightened, squirming and wriggling in her arms. She tucked the edge of the cloth back, small, golden eyes peering up at her. "Shh," she begged, eyes tearing. "Shh, mother's here..." She held her child closer, rocking him gently. "Shhh, I'm here..."

“Ursa…” said the man beside her gently. “We must move. We don’t have long.”

Ursa nodded and steeled herself. “I know, Iroh.”

Her small, baby boy quieted reluctantly, small fingers twisting the fabric of her cloak in a tight grasp. Ursa smiled down at her son, pale skin gleaming in the moonlight.

Ursa forced her gaze away, picking through the mansions with her jaw clenched. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she confessed, heart thundering in her ears.

“You must,” Iroh urged quietly. “For the sake of your son.” He softened. “It’ll all be okay.”

They crept forward, stopping before a mansion of solid ice, hidden behind looming white walls and towering, ornate gates.

Her baby was silent: asleep. Already peaceful before his new home.

“Here we are,” Iroh murmured.

Ursa closed her eyes, feeling her heart breaking within her. “Here we are.”

She couldn't do this. She bit down on her lip and sucked in a tight breath.  _This was goodbye. It has to be done._

She knelt before gates, slowly heaving her son from her protective arms. The child only stirred once, eyes moving restlessly behind his lids. She tucked him in tightly, trying to insulate heat. He would never find ease in the weather; he was made for the temperate skies of home. His Fire Nation blood longed for warmth.

But the north was his home now. No one would find him here. He would grow, unharmed, unknown. She knew this family would care for him, love him. They would know what to do.

Ursa drew a folded letter from her cloak, shaking fingers barely gripping the thin parchment when she set it by his side. She was brittle now, barely in control, exhausted and worried. Her son moved, eyelids fluttering.

She placed her hands over the child's belly, rubbing it gently to soothe him back into a harmless sleep. She dipped her head toward the ground in prayer, squeezing her eyes shut to halt the oncoming tears.

"One day, you'll see me again..." she breathed. "It night not be soon—it could be years—but I promise you, my son. One day, we'll meet, and you'll know me as your mother..."

She looked up and met Iroh’s gaze, trying to soak in strength from the general. He closed his eyes and dipped his chin solemnly, and she turned back to her child. "These are good people, my son, and they'll do more for your than I ever could,” she explained. “You’ll be safe here. Your life here will be a good one. I know you’ll forgive me, even if you don’t understand my reasons." Tears fell, silver droplets rivering down her cheeks. "Forgive me for not being there for you when you'll need me most. Forgive me for leaving you here. But I won't leave you with nothing."

Ursa reached into her cloak and withdrew a crimson ribbon dangling with a gold and silver pendant. "It's a betrothal necklace, for when you come of age." She smiled, imagining the thought of her handsome young boy asking a lady for her love. Trembling, she rested the pendant across his chest, watching as it glowed with a white hue, the inlaid design of two circling dragons glinting in the moonlight. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and knew it was time to go.

“Burn brightly in this life, my son,” she whispered. “I'll remember my promise."

She stood and stepped back from her son, wiping away her tears. She quickly rapped on the gates, voices suddenly sounding from the house in an onslaught of action. Lights flashed on between the cracks in the windows and the house seemed suddenly alive.

“We must go,” Iroh insisted, and together, they backed away into the shadowed street.

The baby stirred, still swathed in his blankets. He caught his mother as she turned and lifted her hood once more. But when he blinked to look again, she was gone.

Rather than cry, Zuko gazed towards the stars hidden in a sky of glass. The distant ocean clapped against the tall cliffs, deep and sonorous in their heaving motions, like a dark heartbeat. The light cast down by the moon pebbled in silver pools across the ice, and the pendant atop his chest shined. For a brief second, the dragons almost seemed alive, writhing in the rock and clawing their way into the air.

Then darkness took him and he fell into a deep stupor.

The night unraveled when the gates were forced open, servants rushing to get to the pile of blankets they saw lying in the snow. The child was swept into the arms of many and passed from one person to another, swift motions pushing him deeper into his sleep.

* * *

Later that night, he lay hidden away in a dark room while the maids watched him and spoke with a worried couple. The tall man spent the night debating with his chief of staff the letter they found and the pendant to go with it, while his wife spent the hours with the baby, rocking him gently in the corner, slowly falling in love with each passing moment.

But the life of the night didn't reach the calmly sleeping Zuko. He was seeing colors behind his eyelids and hearing the soft voice of his long-gone mother. A half smile crept across his face, pulling his small but flawless features into a florescent expression. The boy was secure and left with good intentions. Only fate could mar him now.


	2. Early Morning Sessions

Zuko woke with a start, panting, sweating, numbing air aching in his lungs. _It can't be real._ He straightened into a sitting position, frantically feeling for ruined flesh across his cheek. When his shaking fingers found none, he sobbed in relief, clutching the pendant on his wrist, struggling to keep his cool. _It wasn't real._ He buried his face in his hands, breathing hard.

The bedroom glistened in the moonlight. The hammock swayed as Zuko curled into a ball, burying himself in the furs. His milky cheeks went red at the thought of crying: he hadn't cried in years, and he wouldn't start now. He bit his hand and held his breath, waiting out the thundering of his small heart. He blinked furiously. He remembered all the fire he had seen, all the flesh that burnt, and his jaw locked on the meat of his thumb. The pain crested and he tasted blood, but he only ignored it. Eleven-year-old boys did not cry.

Finally, when he trusted himself not to whimper, he released his hand and buried it against his stomach, a sickening cold settling in. He hated the cold.

"Dreams aren't real," he chanted between chattering teeth. "Dreams aren't real." These words had small comfort. The dreams weren't real, but his cheek still tingled.

He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. "Dreams aren't real." With repetition, he told himself, it'd go away.

He turned to the other side and left the fear. When the lull settled in, he gave himself permission to go back under.

_Dreams aren't real._

* * *

Gray, early morning light streamed in through his window. Hurriedly, he finished the annoying lace of his parka and slipped on the tailored boots. Zuko pulled himself to a stand and sprinted to the door, turning to give his room a quick once-over. Yes, it was in order. The pillows cushioned the furs of his hammock nicely—the servants would leave the saggy form of 'Zuko' sleeping soundly.

He checked the sky. The outline of the moon was low on the horizon, and the city still stood with a hushed, sleepy silence. The pink sun stretched over the cliffs, slowly.

He smiled to himself. _Perfect._

Minding his steps, he slipped past the fabric of his door and crept down the hall, peering into the open door only a few steps from the stairs.

Inside, two muffled forms lay side by side on an expansive bed. Earth Kingdom spices filled the air and he wrinkled his nose. His father snored softly, and his mother remained buried at his side. The room was dark and shuttered.

He tip-toed past the doorway, leaning to check them one last time before taking off down the stairwell, gloved fingers skimming the frosty railing. The entrance hall loomed, the arching ceiling high above his head. He dashed across green and blue rugs, rounding the fountain before charging towards the kitchens, checking each hall before he crossed it. When he reached the rear entrance down by the servants quarters, he ran into the open, freezing air of the courtyard. His cheeks felt red and he pulled his scarf higher, the wind tearing at his hair. His breath felt deep in his lungs and he grinned. _A clean getaway._

Zuko fell to his knees down by the garden of ice sculptures, giving the yard a furtive glance before he leaned down and pushed the loose brick of ice back, barely squeezing through the space. With a grunt, he wriggled out to the other side, pushing the brick back in. He frowned as he jogged away. He was getting a little too big for that route.

The empty streets ran down through the capitol. The air was getting warmer by the second. The mansion walls were far behind him, disappearing when he navigated into the back-streets. The snow was fresh and crunched with every step, and he hoped no one would follow the footprints that led away from his home.

Zuko came to the small alcove behind his mother's favorite fabric store, chilled and rubbing his numb hands together. He felt dwarfed amongst the city buildings, the tall wall of the school looming ahead of him. Hesitant, constantly checking for unwanted witnesses, he knelt and dipped his head low, whispering to the wall.

"I'm here. And I'm alone."

There was a beat of silence. Zuko frowned. "Hello?"

Still nothing.

This wasn't the arrangement. Zuko glanced around again, a little worried. "Peti?" he finally whispered. "Peti, it's me. I'm here."

The wall cracked and a jet of steam shot from between the bricks. Zuko started and fell back in shock, breathing hard, eyes wide. The ice melted away, revealing a tall teen with an annoyed frown on his face, hand poised in the air.

Zuko blinked as Peti dusted the snow from his jacket, eyes narrowing. "You're late."

Zuko scrambled to his feet. "No, I came at the break of dawn," he protested. "Like agreed."

Peti rolled his eyes. "You're later than I thought you would be."

Zuko locked his jaw in shame. "Came as quick as I could..." he mumbled.

The taller teen sighed, pinching his brow as he gestured. "Whatever. Let's go. I need to get this lesson out of the way." He watched as Zuko stepped inside, and sealed the gap in the wall with one sweeping motion. "This way."

Zuko followed his companion eagerly, straightening his jacket as he looked around, admiring the carvings in the walls and the statues of various poses. The courtyards stretched long distances, the ground uneven from where water had been drawn in combat. Zuko walked in a pondrous quiet: the school always took his breath away. When he noticed how far ahead Peti had gotten, he picked up his pace.

Peti glanced down and rolled his eyes. "Keep up," he ordered, walking with the proud gait of a northern waterbender. He was older and stronger than Zuko, with a taut jaw and his hair pulled into a wolf's tail, looking rich in his boarding clothes. He was thinly dressed compared to the eleven-year-old, donning a slim parka, belt, pants and furlined boots to protect from the climate, but they were tailored to his slender size. His parents sought eagerly to his care at school.

"Aren't you cold?" Zuko asked, curious.

Peti huffed. "I'll be warm soon enough."

Zuko nodded. "Oh."

"Don't sound so surprised," Peti sighed.

He led them down into a small practice yard, hidden away from prying eyes. With one cursory look, Peti confirmed they weren't being followed and lifted both hands, sealing the yard off with a wall of ice. He turned back to Zuko, brow raised.

"Early morning lessons means we do something beyond rehearsing the motions," he began after a moment, straightening his shoulders. "It means we'll do actual bending, not just drilling, so no one will hear us. This has been our routine for years. I had you come earlier today, because this time it'll be different."

Zuko raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I have a test today," Peti replied, shucking the gloves from his hands. Zuko quickly did the same. "If I pass, I go beyond group classes and instead take private lessons with Master Pakku."

This took Zuko off guard. "Wait, really? Pakku? _The_ Pakku?"

"Well, there's just so many Pakku's to choose from," Peti answered mordantly.

Zuko kept his lips sealed.

Peti clarified. "In other words, I become his personal apprentice. Pakku only takes on three every five years, and I'm not the only student competing for a slot."

"Then why are we having a lesson?" Zuko asked with a frown. "You should be training. Preparing for the test."

"Because the test is unique," Peti replied. "Everyone in my level showcases their bending for three minutes before Pakku, and afterwards, he chooses who he fights. If he deems you worthy once you've dueled with him, he'll take you on. There are so many rules and most of it is just tedious tradition, but I need to be ready for anything. He can challenge whoever he wants to a duel, as long as he has seen their bending the day of."

Zuko marveled in silence. After a beat, he asked quietly, "How do you know he'll choose you?"

This took Peti by surprise. "I'm the top of my class. I aim to prove that to him. He'll choose me."

Zuko didn't quite understand, but he nodded anyway. "Okay, so what do we do?"

Peti grinned. "We practice dueling."

Zuko's eyes widened, swallowing the lump in his throat as he rose to the challenge. "Well, that's different."

"Get into your starting pose," Peti commanded. "We duel the traditional way."

Zuko quickly did as he said, fixing his position when the teen gave him a critical look.

Peti rolled his shoulders back, feet waist length apart, smile crooked. "The first move is yours," he said after a moment. "The opponent opposite the challenger always starts."

Zuko hadn't known this was a rule, but obliged anyway, thinking critically for a moment. He drew his hands in, flexing his fingers, taking a deep breath when he felt the heat pit in his gut. With a flourish, sparks gathered between his open palms and a docile flame formed, growing larger, stronger.

Peti eyed him, egging him on. "Is that it?"

Zuko frowned and concentrated, the flames emboldened by the challenge.

Peti rolled his eyes, gesturing towards himself. "Come at me, Zuko!"

Zuko grunted and rotated swiftly, the flame beginning to drip in a wave of glowing, bright energy, incandescent and blinding as it drove forward hard and fast. A swell of pride made Zuko smile until his attack went up in a jet of steam, parting as Peti waved a dismissive hand.

His expression was smug. "'Really, that's it?"

Zuko kicked up more flame, the tingling in his gut growing with each movement. The energy trailed his motions loyally, faltering when he caught glimpse of icicles flying towards his head. The fire evaporated and he ducked.

Peti clicked his tongue. "Tsk, Zuko. I trained you better than this." He bent down and flexed his hands towards the floor, rising and lifting a sheet of ice that melted, splintering into a thousand droplets before pressing together into a stream.

Zuko tried to remember all of the second-hand moves he learned, everything Peti had been taught then taught him out of pity, but all the memories seemed to slip away. Instinct took over. Frayed hair and sweat fell down his forehead as he dodged the teen's slices.

"Fight back, Zuko, fight!"

Zuko decided to evade. He slipped around Peti and shot a fistful of flame at his back, which was easily countered and erupted in a smoke blast that sent Zuko sprawling.

He rolled to his knees, gritting his teeth and panting in frustration.

"Do you yield?" Peti asked, a little disappointed.

"No," Zuko spat, rising and spinning, shooting balls of flame as fast as he could, sending a volley flying with each thrust. Peti dodged and spun, redirecting the steam a simple motion of the wrist.

_No, go down,_ Zuko thought angrily, growing tired with each attack. He weathered each move, grimly following each counter of Peti's. Curled spouts rose in a line from the ground, angling towards Zuko then hardening, soaring as towering spears of ice. Peti's signature move.

Zuko leapt and twisted, dancing in the air. Small as he was, he easily ducked between strikes. Waves of heat danced from his hands and the last spear melted before touching him, dissolving.

The heat was getting to his adversary. Peti was already sweating, wiping his forehead aggressively. He grit his teeth, curling his fingers.

The ground opened beneath Zuko and he fell down, tripping and staggering when Peti lanched himself. Snaking whips of water struck the young boy back, falling from the small hole. The wind was knocked from Zuko, burning, empty lungs starving. Zuko clutched ribs, wheezing.

Peti gazed at Zuko for a moment, watching the panting boy, letting the whip fall towards the snow-lathered ground. "The fight's not over until either of us yields," he said haltingly. "Do you yield?"

Zuko quickly pushed himself to his feet, still gasping.

Peti's eyes twinkled. "Always a fighter," he sighed, leaning back to gather a wave from the floor, turning and aiming.

Something seized in Zuko, a sudden fear he couldn't brace, and a surge of heat raced through his hands, fingers jolting forward to meet the crashing wave with a bolt of electric blue lightning. It cut clean through, the air sparking and cracking and with a heavy _boom_ the wave split apart and sent Peti flying, landing against wall with a deep _smack,_ one that sent Zuko's stomach into a churning pit of horror.

Peti tumbled to the ground, motionless for a moment.

Stunned, Zuko only stood, unable to do anything as he watched his friend slowly look up, hair falling from the tail it had been gathered into. The boy held his breath while the waterbender grimaced.

Stiffly, Peti pushed himself onto his elbows, then knees, lifting himself against the wall with one hand while the other held his stomach.

Peti's eyes were accusing, Zuko frozen in fear. "What the _hell_ was _that?"_ he demanded, still a little shaken. "Since when... How..." His features twisted as he straightened his back, gasping hard through his teeth when his spine popped.

Zuko could only shake his head, arms useless by his sides while his fingers trembled uncontrollably.

Voices began outside the wall. "What was that?" "What's going on?" None of the voices were familiar.

Zuko began to panic, shrinking back away from the walls of ice. "I can't be discovered here!" he whispered to Peti, frightened. "My parents...their reputation... No one but you and them knows!"

Peti nodded, expression transformed, and sprang into action. He waved his hands and the ground upended, flattening with a few jarring motions, the burn marks gone, snow frothed again. Zuko ran to his side when the footsteps on the other side of the wall sounded too close for comfort.

Peti smoothed back his hair, dusting the singed ends of his parka before shucking it from his shoulders, tying it at his waist so to hide the black marks. His bronze skin glinted and he shivered, protectively grabbing Zuko by the shoulder.

The voices were closer now, barely beyond the wall. "Since when was this here?" a husky voice remarked.

"Knock it down—the explosion was on the other side." This voice had authority.

Peti's eyes widened, spinning to face Zuko. "Don't make a noise," he whispered, bringing his hands down and stomping. A hole opened beneath Zuko and he fell, shut in a small chamber of ice. The top covered over with a thin layer of crystalline water. Zuko sat huddled, frightened and claustrophobic before he realized that he was in hiding. He held still, silent as the night, golden eyes wide as the sun.

Steps beat against the snow, the voices muffled. He heard more cracking, the shadow of Peti's figure moving, folding his hands behind his back. The colors were blurred through the icy ceiling, slowly lathering with snow.

Unfamiliar shadows suddenly appeared, blocking the early morning light, moving fluidly. _Waterbenders,_ Zuko thought. _Three of them._

"Peti? What are you doing here?"

"Practicing," the teen answered smoothly. "I find I'm at my best in the morning, when the moon still has some presence in the sky."

"What were those noises?" the commanding voice demanded.

"Sounded like you were fighting an army of firebenders," one sneered jokingly.

"Those noises were the noises of an intense practice session," he explained with a light tone, gesturing around. "I shut myself in so that I wouldn't be disturbed."

"Overachiever," one of the shadows snickered, followed by more muffled laughter.

Peti's hand returned to his side. "What do you want, Koluk?"

"Wanted to know what was so _intense_ about the noises we heard," the tallest of the figures explained, the owner of the authoritative voice. "Were heading down to the sixth courtyard for some early morning practice ourselves when it felt like a small earthquake hit the school." Koluk shifted, and Zuko could hear the grin in his voice. "You should join us. Practice dueling on each other."

"That you will not," interrupted a harsh voice, a cold, calculating voice, and suddenly all of the figures stiffened.

"M-master Pakku," one of the spare teens stammered. Peti remained reserved.

Zuko felt his stomach drop, palms curdling in a cold sweat.

"You all have a test today, and last minute practicing is a waste of your time, and a disgrace to me," the old man scoffed. "You've been training your entire lives for this—your security in your bending should've been set long ago. Now, you all have traditions to attend to, outfits to don, places to be."

The teens all stood in silence. Zuko hesitantly looked up, seeing the looming shadow of the waterbending elder, the long outline of a bulbous head and proud shoulders. "Go."

Peti and his peers all left, Peti disappearing coolly. Zuko breathed hard, gripped with a strange sense of loneliness as his only friend left him. The figure of Pakku remained only for a lingering moment, before the soft snow crunched underfoot and he followed suit.

Zuko heaved a small sigh of relief after a moment, measuring the silence briefly before deeming it safe. He stood, stretching towards the cap of the chamber a few feet off his head. He reached, stretching on his toes, but his hand barely skimmed the surface, fingers still trembling.

_Well,_ he thought dismally. _I could always melt it._

The walls around him suddenly caved and the ground lurched beneath his feet, shooting upwards until he fell forward in open air, collapsing from the violent movement. He pushed himself onto his elbows, fearfully gazing forwards to see rich boots facing him, not but an arm's length ahead. _Those aren't Peti's._

He leveled his gaze with Pakku, who stood with his white hair hanging, hands relaxed at his sides, solid, tailored indigos and blues glaring in the morning sunlight, bright and clear. His eyes betrayed nothing.

Pakku took a step back and gestured towards the open doorway, the distant wall of the school melting to form a gap just big enough for Zuko. Only two courtyards were between Zuko and the awakening city.

"There's your way out," he said flatly. "Go before your parents find you missing."

Zuko staggered to his feet, shame colouring his cheeks, knees feeling like jelly. Two boys his own age ran in the distant courtyard, tossing water between them as if it were a ball.

Pakku's gaze hardened, briefly turning to trace the young boy's line of sight. "So it's waterbending you want," he mused quietly, a deep chord pinching in Zuko's chest.

He looked down on the sulking boy. There was no kindness in his voice.

"Leave, firebender."

The name hollowed Zuko's chest as if the wind had been kicked from him again. _He knows._

Zuko couldn't do anything else, so he ran. He broke into a sprint, not caring if the boys running in the courtyard saw him as he darted through the gap in the wall, listening to the _thwop_ of it closing behind him. He took to the streets, embarrassed and scared.

He hated that name. He hated it with all his heart.

Zuko shoved between the crowds in the street and pushed his way in the busying marketplace, where fish was carted around, carvings were sold, and the elite class of the city bartered with the poor. Some gazes caught his, an old woman suspiciously furrowing her brow at his nervous, golden eyes.

He covered his face in shame and quickened his pace, the walls and gateway of his home slipping into view. The street branched away from the markets and docks and transitioned into the houses bordering the palace gates, gulls crying overhead, the ocean in the distance. The city woke faster than he wanted it to. The sun was climbing high now, though the cold air still bit and clawed at his skin.

He ran to the far corner of the house, the one away from the other mansions and walls, closest to the docks. The fisherman boarding their boats never commented as they saw a councilman's boy kicking back a loose brick of ice in the wall, struggling through as if his life depended on it, then pushing the gap closed.

Zuko tore through the courtyard of statues, running past the emerging servants. His favorite cook was already in the kitchen, fetching ingredients and more than puzzled to see his young master sloppily dart between his apprentices.

"Zuko?" he asked, but the boy ignored him. Zuko ran beyond the kitchens and down through the halls dividing studies and servants quarters, past the main library and into the entrance hall, where chambermaids smoothed the rugs and brushed the furniture.

He ran into something hard and bounced back, shaken and stunned. Zuko looked up into the eyes of his father and tried to compose himself, expression guilty and eyes nearly watering. He clutched his shirt for support and looked away. "Dad," he croaked.

The father studied his son for only a moment before softening. "Zuko, what's wrong?" he asked. "Where were you? I sent out Salcha and Kena to look for you."

_I can't tell him._ "Nothing," Zuko lied, shaking his head. "Nothing at all. I went out to explore the yard and watch the sunrise. When I realize how late it was I came running back."

His father raised a brow. "From the yard?"

Zuko held his breath. "Yeah, it's farther than it looks."

If his father didn't buy it, it didn't bother him. "Well, okay, just let someone know next time."

Zuko nodded, still burning at Pakku's words.

"Come," his father gestured, "let's meet your mother for breakfast, then you'll have to change that threadbare, old parka. Your cousin Peti has an important waterbending competition today, and we've been invited to attend."

Zuko blinked. "How do you mean?"

His father smiled as they walked. "It's a series of trials that every young pupil his age goes through in order to become a master. Pakku himself will be there, and so will the chief. Your uncle Noktul and aunt Asiaka invited us personally." He smiled. "It's a great chance to see waterbending up close."

Zuko sucked in a tight breath. He almost felt sick of waterbending. "It could be really fun," he agreed, feeling sheepish when he found his mother waiting for him at the table, glittering eyes sweet and trusting. The sudden safety of his parents made Zuko's throat tight.

His mother smiled up at them, patiently waiting. "Did you tell him about Peti?" she asked politely, grinning at her son as he took a seat at the set table.

"Was just explaining it to him," Zuko's father grinned. "Already excited about it, eh, Zuko?"

The firebender couldn't think of an answer, and instead wanted desperately for one of them to give him a hug and tell him that what he could do was not a crime, nothing to hide. But he knew that wasn't true. And the thought of the greatest waterbender in the world knowing his secret robbed him of his appetite.

Zuko only nodded, kneading his bare hands, pausing in fright for a second before figuring it didn't matter that he'd left his gloves back at the school.


End file.
